The dust still hung thick in the air when Bravo Team pushed deeper into the collapsed compound. What remained of the enemy stronghold was little more than shattered stone, twisted rebar, and the acrid sting of smoke, but Jason Hayes had learned long ago that missions rarely ended when the shooting stopped. His team moved with the silent precision of men trained to read one another better than words ever could.

Ray Perry swept the left flank, scanning through the settling haze with a steady, practiced patience. Sonny Quinn took the rear, shoulders tense beneath the weight of adrenaline still trickling through his veins. Lisa Davis monitored their comms from a small perimeter they’d secured outside, her voice crackling occasionally through their earpieces as she tracked enemy movement and ensured exfil was still clean.

Drew Franklin kept his steps measured, doing everything possible not to look like he was still thinking through every move. He wasn’t Bravo yet, not the way Jason meant it, but he was proving he had the instincts.

The structure groaned above them.

“Move quick,” Jason ordered quietly. “We get what we came for and we get out.”

Ray stopped suddenly, posture shifting. “Stand by,” he murmured, lifting one hand for silence.

Sonny crouched near a broken support beam, eyes narrowing. “You hear that?”

Jason did. Faint. Muffled. Not mechanical or structural. Something… human.

A cry. Thin. Weak. High-pitched.

Jason’s brows pulled together. “No way,” he whispered.

Ray was already clearing debris, peeling away chunks of concrete with practiced efficiency. Drew dropped beside him, helping without question. Dust billowed with each movement until finally, after shifting a warped metal panel aside, Ray froze.

There, nestled in a pocket of space barely large enough to breathe in, was an infant. Covered in soot. Wrapped in what had once been a pale blanket. Tiny chest fluttering with shallow breaths. Eyes squeezed tight, crying with what little strength remained.

“Ain’t possible,” Sonny said softly, voice stripped of its usual bark. “After that blast…”

“They’re alive,” Ray confirmed, touching two fingers to the small, trembling ribcage.

Jason’s breath caught, just a beat, but long enough for the weight of it to settle. Missions were measured by objectives met, threats eliminated, lives saved. But this… this wasn’t strategy. This was something raw. Human. Unexpected.

“Davis,” Jason said into his mic, forcing his voice steady. “We found a survivor.”

“Copy that,” she answered. “Status?”

Jason hesitated. “It’s… a baby.”

Silence crackled for half a second. “Say again?”

“A baby,” Sonny repeated, as if saying it aloud might make it more believable. “Little thing’s tougher than half the Marines I’ve met.”

Drew gently lifted the infant, cradling them close to his vest. The baby’s cries softened, soothed by warmth and the steady thump of a heartbeat.

“What do you want to do, boss?” Ray asked.

Jason looked at his team, dust-covered, battle-worn, yet somehow struck still by the fragile life in their midst.

“We take the kid,” he said simply. “We get out. Bravo brings everyone home who’s still breathing.”

Ray nodded.

Sonny exhaled. “Hell of a souvenir, huh?”

Jason shot him a look. Sonny just lifted his hands in surrender, though his eyes softened as he glanced at the child again.

Davis’ voice returned, more focused now. “I’ll alert med evac. They’ll be waiting.”

Bravo Team regrouped, forming a protective shield around Drew and the infant. The compound groaned again, another plume of dust drifting down.

“Let’s move,” Jason said, voice hardening. “This miracle isn’t dying on my watch.”